


One Dance

by palateens



Series: a song you keep whispering to my heart [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, canon-typical alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-12 12:12:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: If he remembers any part of them making out and promptly passing out on the couch the next morning, he doesn’t mention it. Justin would rather avoid making things weird with his best friend while he’s still searching for his soulmate. She’s out there somewhere, and she’s everything he’s ever dreamed of.





	1. Strength and Guidance

**Author's Note:**

> For Ransom Week
> 
> Prompt: Celebration

 

Justin is a junior in high school. He knows exactly three things about his soulmate. One, she’s around his age. Two, she’s definitely American. Three, she has a thing for musical theater. 

 _Ever since puberty. Everybody stares at me. Boys, girls. I can’t help it baby_.

Justin, or Ranser as his hockey team knew him, sighs. He’s knee-deep in a practice SAT test. He knows his soulmate is American, so that’s where he’s planning to go for university. Even if they don’t end up at the same school, it’ll be exponentially easier to find her if they don’t have an international border between them. 

_So be kind. And don’t lose your mind. Just remember. That I’m your baby._

_“_ Allow me to kiss your hand, be your man,” Ranser interrupts. “You know, I’ll understand…You see where I’m from, WC, I’m from Nigeria,” he murmurs. “Omo, you know say na criteria.” 

Justin doesn’t know what skipping ahead in a song does to the music inside his soulmate’s mind. But he’s not one for singing,really. He finds the songs that suit his message and sticks lyric-less songs otherwise. Many reactionary music genres nowadays were mainly instrumental to resist the idea of finding soulmates through consumerism. It’s not that he didn’t care about his soulmate. But it’s one less thing to worry about if he has separate music for communicating with her and for enjoying for himself. Afrobeat has been particularly effective in balancing out her more…exuberant tunes. 

He can’t fault her for her love of Lady Gaga, but priorities take precedent over fun time. As if she understands his protests, the music dies down. Justin takes a deep breath, resuming his test. He can only hope she doesn’t do this during the real exam time. Although most administrators were understanding, it was a three strikes policy for singing during an exam. 

If there’s one thing Justin’s learned about his soulmate, it’s that she sung everything she felt. 

_/.\\_ 

“What if I got a double major in music and economics?” Adam, or Birker, asks his teammate, Hobbs, one movie night his last year in Juniors. 

Hobbs eyes him incredulously. “Why?” 

Adam shrugs, “my soulmate listens to a lot of cool music.”

“So? Fucking congrats,” he snarks. 

“No man, it’s like,” Adam gestures with two hands at the space in front of the coffee table. “Most of the stuff they like isn’t pop and doesn’t even have lyrics. Which fucking sucked when we were younger, right?”

“Sure,” he concedes. 

“I learned how to play the piano and some other instruments so I could figure out what songs they were — and now I have all this musical knowledge that I won’t be able to use ever again.”

“Because…” Hobbs prompts. 

“Because when I find them, what the fuck do I need to know this shit for anymore? If they like something, they can just show it to me.” 

Hobbs rolls his eyes, “be a music major. Become a fucking teacher why don’t you?”

“You think I could handle that?” Adam inquires seriously. 

“I think your other option is to get famous writing music, and fat chance of that ever happening,” Hobbs chirps.

“Thanks, you’re helpful,” Birker rolls his eyes dramatically. 

“I don’t get why you’re going to college anyway,” Hobbs jabs him in the ribs. 

“I’m not doing the draft, bro,” Adam reminds him curtly. 

“Oh c’mon,” Hobbs eggs him on, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I miss my chance to meet my soulmate in college, I spend four years in fucking Syracuse before I get called up. I retire at 32 if I’m lucky with no degree or skills.”

“Except music,” Hobbs chirps. 

“Except music,” Adam parrots. 

Brownie comes back with a bowl full of popcorn and a bag of Twizzlers. “What’d I miss?”

“Birker’s whinning about his soulmate again,”  Hobbs replies.

“What else is new,” Calvin shouts from the kitchen. 

“Can we start the fucking show already?” Adam shouts back.

“Yeah,” Calvin comes running in, hopping onto the first body he sees (Adam).

Adam frowns when Calvin won’t get off his lap. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“Taking your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.   
Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot,” the four boys chorus. 

“Man, I hope for your sake she’s funny,” Brownie tells Birker. 

Adam laughs hollowly. He’s very convinced that his soulmate’s a dude. Which is fine, Adam’s as bi as the day is long. The way Calvin looks back at him pointedly, reinforces his suspicions that he’s not the only queer guy on the team.

Which is exactly why he’s going to Samwell. It was one of the queerest schools in the country. He had no assurance that his soulmate will find him there. But at the very least, he can have four years away from the quite chaos of hockey. The NHL was still ignoring the fact that a good third (or more) of their players weren’t straight. The press was constantly writing soulmates off as “platonic”, and Adam was not about to put up with that any time soon. He wanted to go to school, do something he loves, and fall in love. Why was that too much to ask for?

 

* * *

 

_/.\\_ 

Justin’s a freshman in college. The guys on this team call him Ransom. His best friend is Adam Birkholtz, or Holster. They’re one of the best d-man pairs in the ECAC (if not the entire NCAA). He majors in biology partly because most of his gen-eds are too easy and partly because of his mom’s look of sheer joy when he mentions he could become a doctor.

In between practices, games, and school, Ransom tries to find his soulmate. He starts checking out the drama department’s schedule for the year (she has to be an actress, right?).

“Hey I’m going to the Sunday matinee,” he tells Jack, Shitty, Lardo, and Holster one afternoon in December. Anyone wanna come with?”

“Don’t you have finals to study for?” Jack

Ransom shrugs, “I’m only taking gen-eds this semester. My hardest class is comp and I have a final paper for that.”

“Well I’m in,” Holster agrees. “I fucking love _Thoroughly Modern Millie_.”

Holster takes a deep inhale that’s promptly interrupted by Jack. “If we go, you can’t sing.”

Adam huffs, crossing his arms, “fine.”

“Bro, you sing?”

Holster blushes slightly, shrugging nonchalantly, “sometimes. It’s been a while, y’know.”

Jack snorts while Shitty holds back a cackle. Justin, confused by the exchange, takes it in stride.

_/.\\_

“Why didn’t you tell him that you sing all the fucking time?” Lardo jabs Holster in the side as they walk home later.

“Because he’s cool and attractive?”

“And…” Lardo shoves him playfully, 

“And I wasn’t about to embarrass myself in front of him and Shitty and Jack,” he admits.

“You’re an idiot,” they sigh. “He’s your best friend, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Then trust him to not be shitty about something you love,” Lardo instructs as they fish their keys out of their backpack.

“Ok,” he relents. He wishes he could keep his cool. But there’s something so inexplicably wonderful about being around Ransom that caused him to act dumb.

_/.\\_

“If you’re not drunk, ladies and gentlemen,” Bergey shouts.

“Get ready to get fucked up!” he choruses with Johnson and their girlfriend.

They turn the volume all the way up. It’s only the pregame, but a small crowd is already gathering. The entire SMH and some friends of the team (Lardo obviously included) are cheering. Shots of tequila are being downed as Ransom and Holster pass out refills. Keg stands are just starting, Shitty’s on jungle juice duty while Jack sips his eight-dollar cider next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Shitty whisper something that makes Jack blush profusely. He wonders for a moment what that’s about.

“Shots, shots, shots, shouts, shots,” the crowd screams.

_Shots, shots, shots, shouts, shots, shots, shots, shots, shouts, shots,_

_Everybody!_

The room vibrates to the best of the bass and everyone’s jumps. It’s already crowded in the living room. Justin can’t imagine how intense this party is going to get.

“Fuck it’s so loud in here I can barely think,” Ransom rubs his temple.

Holster frowns in concern, “wanna take a breather?”

Ransom nods enthusiastically.

Holster pulls him toward the back porch. The air’s chilly, but still relatively warm for December. This Epikegster is bound to be the biggest party Holster’s ever organized. He definitely doesn’t want to leave his bro behind to have a sucky time by himself, however.

“Jaegerbombs, Lemondrops, Butter Nipples, Jell shots Kamikazes, rewindin’,” the crowd erupts behind them.

He lets Justin have a few minutes to get his bearings straight. Holster fights the urge to hums under his breath. It’s a Saturday, so he doubts his soulmate is up to something important. Still, his soulmate was good at communicating and he knew if he was cut off even once, that meant now wasn’t the time. He feels like he heard his soulmate earlier, but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Adam wonders what his soulmate is up to right now. If they were busy doing a project, or if they’re hanging out with friends, getting drunk just like him. Holster doesn’t know how long he’s spaced out when Justin pats him on the back.

“Thanks for having my back, man,” Ransom mutters.

“No problem, bro,” Holster smiles in return. “Wanna head back in?”

“Sure,” he offers Adam a fist bump. Justin grins in a way that makes Holster’s heart stutter.

It’s probably nothing.

_/.\\_

It March, Justin’s officially nineteen. He’s gotten drunk before, but Shitty and Holster are determined to let him “live”.

“As long as I don’t end up in the hospital,” he grumbles.

“Bro, we fucking swear to pace you,” Shitty crosses his heart.

“Ok…” Ransom agrees wearily the day before. When it comes time for his actual party he feels much better about the prospect.

He gets two mixed drinks, three shots, and two kegs stands in when he stops noticing the tally marks on his arm ticking up. And he’s right at that sweet spot of drunk where drinking sounds like a good idea. Nicki Minaj is blaring throughout the first floor, but he can hardly hear it over his soulmate singing.

_Cause you are the piece of me I wish I didn’t need. Chasing relentlessly, still fight and I don’t know why._

Justin’s drunk enough to hum along. It’s a new song, but Holster’s so into pop that it makes it easier to keep up with his soulmate’s tastes. He feels like for once he’s got an edge. And maybe he tries less to keep her quiet, since being around Adam has taught him that insignificant moments can amount to everything.

He barely notices when someone makes him drink water and eat crackers. He’s never browned out before. When he gets a little soberer, “Clarity” is still playing in his head. It pulls him back into the present. Holster’s asking him some shit.

“Wanna get out of here?” Holster asks.

Ransom’s mostly focused on how fucking blue Adam’s eyes are. At least, that’s what he’ll say in the morning he thinks “kissing him would be nice” and then feels himself kiss Holster. The music around them is blaring. He faintly feels his hands run through Holster’s hair, and for now, his mind is at piece. It’s like a part of him shut up long enough to enough this.

If he remembers any part of them making out and promptly passing out on the couch the next morning, he doesn’t mention it. Justin would rather avoid making things weird with his best friend while he’s still searching for his soulmate. She’s out there somewhere, and she’s everything he’s ever dreamed of.

_/.\\_

They drive home together because Holster has a car and they live (relatively) close to each other. Ransom realizes as they’re on the road that he’s never really heard Holster sing. He brings it up when “Hypnotize” comes on and Adam starts bopping his head.

“Dude, you’re a music major,” Ransom states, mostly for context.

“And Econ,” Hoslter wags his finger. 

“And Econ,” Ransom affirms more like a mantra. “Why don’t you sing?”

“Well I do,” Holster admits. “Mostly in class, though.”

“Not anywhere else?”

“Honestly?” Holster sighs, “my soulmate needs quiet, like most of the time. I guess sometimes I forget that you’re not…them.”

“Oh,” Justin processes for a moments, “so you’re just…respecting my study habits.”

“Totally,” Adam flashes him a smile that seems almost sincere. Justin decides to take it.

“Thanks man,” Ransom nudges his shoulder gently.

Part of him wants to give him permission to sing around him whenever. But, Holster has his habits. He watches out for Ransom in a way that takes care of himself too.

“I’m surprised you have so much early 2000s rap on this playlist,” Ransom admits as he rolls down his down.

“Oh yea, it’s the best,” Holster hums briefly. “Y’know I hate assholes who are like ‘the new shit isn’t as good’ and try to pin point a golden age of rap. Most of the time it’s white dudes who are minimizing and commodifying the real-life experiences of Black artists.”

“Is all that from your popular music class?” Ransom chirps.

“Nah,” Holster smirks, “sometimes I’m productive enough to look up shit I’m interested in.”

_/.\\_

It’s sophomore year and they’re not Frogs anymore. Ransom and Holster busted their asses to get dibs in the Haus. They’re sharing everything together. That is, except for music. Ransom’s too caught up in classes to notice. Actually, he’s too caught up in hanging out around the music building when he’s supposed to be in class. Which causes him to be knee deep in homework at odd hours of the day. Sometimes, he’ll hear “Same Love” floating through during study hours. Ransom tries to ignore it at first. He thinks, hey, if his soulmate is bi that’s fine. If she ends up being gay, then they’ll be platonic and that’ll be fine by him. He just wants her in his life.

“And I can’t change. Even if I tried, even if I wanted to,” he hears out loud. Justin flinches. He’s in the music library because every other library is overcrowded. Holster walked over with him because he has a technical exam.

Justin hears the same voice again. It’s soft. He strains his ears to follow it.

_My love, my love, my love._

Ransom doesn’t want to believe it. Or maybe, he’s too scared to believe this could be it. This is the first time he’s ever heard someone sing it in real life. It’s his soulmate’s current favorite song. This could really be it.

He follows the corridor to a choir room. There’s just one girl in the room,

“She keeps me warm,” her vibrato is stunning. Her blond curls frame her green eyes perfectly. She’s beautiful.

“Wow.” Ransom doesn’t realize he’s said anything until she turns to stare at him.

“Hi,” she laughs awkwardly.

“Oh, sorry,” he back up half a step. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No worries,” she waves him closer. “I was just practicing before the next class comes in.”

“Umm I heard you singing and I just thought…”

Her eyes light up. It’s recognition, he thinks. “Did you like it?”

“Uh yea,” Ransom scuffs the floor with his right shoe, “a lot actually.”

“Thanks.” Her quirked lips highlight the blush of her cheeks, “my name’s March by the way.”

“Justin,” he offers. Giving her a cautious smile, he adds, “at the expense of sounding corny, could I buy you a drink sometime?”

“Yeah,” she smiles softly. “I’d really like that.”

_/.\\_

It’s February at another kegster. Lardo may or may not be making out with Jack in a corner. Holster may or may not be avoiding doing the same to Ransom. He’s not even sure how it got to this point. That’s a lie, and even he knows it’s a weak excuse at best.

Ransom started dating March a few months ago. She was perfect. She was funny and eloquent. She had a voice like a saint (which is really saying something if Adam can’t even argue against that.) March is everything Justin wanted in a soulmate. Adam should be happy for him. And a huge part of him really is.

The other is hopelessly in love with his best friend.

He watches Ransom look at her like she hung the moon. It’s just his luck that they’re in a lot of the same classes. He’s made a good effort to be a good buddy to Ransom and make nice with March. They try to find time to study together. And ok, maybe March is perfect. Maybe she’s exactly the type of girl that Justin deserves. But he can’t help wondering how he was supposed to move on when he swears it’s his soulmate that’s breaking his heart.

_/.\\_

It’s May and Johnson’s graduating. Holster stays with everyone (minus Bitty) to send him off. There are some pictures with him, and then him and his girlfriend. Bergey came back to see them graduate too (which makes sense considering he’s their soulmate but still, dude’s been in Milwaukee all year). Johnson gives everyone a big round of hugs.

“Ready to go?” Ransom jostles him as they walk back to the Haus.

Holster snaps out of his musings. “Yeah, ready to see the Falls?”

“We saw them last year,” Justin argues.

“I know, but they’ve changed.” Holster jokes because it distracts them both. It’s seven hours to his house from here. He’s not sure he can stomach the proximity to Ransom without begging to kiss him (or just breaking down).

“Oh sure,” Ransom shakes his head. He asses Adam for a bit. He asks softly, “you ok?”

“Yeah, bro,” he nods so enthusiastically that they both believe him. “Don’t worry about me.”

_/.\\_

It’s summer and Justin’s been dating March for the better part of a year. She’s amazing. And he can’t believe he got so lucky to meet his soulmate early enough to make plans with her—to forge a life together. He knows they’re nowhere near ready to talk about forever. But her laugh is sunshine and between her and Holster, his stress sort of ebbs away. She’s gotten great at reading his mood and catering her music to him.

They call each other every other day. He’s twenty, and Justin’s in love. He can’t imagine his life getting any better than this.

_/.\\_

It’s September when he hears “Fancy” for the first time. March is over studying. She puts on her playlist. She distracts him by dancing, pulling him out of his seat on the bed. They’re dancing like dorks and he thinks ‘this is what I’m going to remember when we’re old.’

“This is great,” he murmurs into her ear. “Is it new?”

“No, babe,” she giggles. “It’s been out all summer.”

“Oh,” Ransom looks at her quizzically.

March stops dancing. “What?”

“You’re pretty on top of pop music,” Justin says slowly.

Her lips form s comical thin line. “I know?”

“You haven’t sung it before,” he continues.

“Yes, I have,” she insists.

“No, you haven’t,” Ransom counters fervently.

March stares at him for a good long moment. “Ransom, what are you talking about?”

He starts pacing, “this makes no sense.”

“What?”

“You sing all the time.“ He’s practically vibrating out of his socks, “you sing the same songs all the time.”

“Justin,” her tone is firm. “I’m going to hold your hand is that ok?”

He nods mechanically. She takes both of his hands, squeezing them slowly. He gets his breathing under control. She helps him count.

“Talk to me,” she annunciates each word like a plea.

“We’re soulmates,” his eyes are frightened as they land on her confused gaze, “aren’t we?”

March blanches at him. “I never said we were soulmates.”

“But I thought…” his voice goes limp.

“Justin, hey no,” she raises his chin gently with her finger. “This changes nothing for me, ok? I really like you.”

 _Like you_ , the words pierce him like a bullet. It’s just then that he realizes he never said I love you. He never told his soulmate how much he loved her. And suddenly, she’s gone. She’s not the person he thought she was. Maybe March is right, and it changes nothing. Only, Justin Oluransi has waited his entire life for her. He thought this was her.

“I’m sorry,” he admits with such a low tone. “It does for me.”

She bites her lips, shaking slightly as nods. “I understand.”

“March,” his voice is tiny, downtrodden.

“Yeah?”

Justin hugs her. She stiffens, and then melts into the embrace. If they spend the night weeping in each other’s arms, they don’t mention it when Holster comes back the next morning from wherever he’s been.

_/.\\_

Holster’s been on a bender lately. His Tinder account blows up on a daily basis. He’s bisexual, young, and so tired of not feeling loved. He throws himself into hockey, and finding a rebound. One rebound turns into eight. It turns into hiding out in Bitty’s dorm room when he can’t bear to be in the same room as Justin.

“Thanks again, Bits,” Holster hugs him one day.

“No problem, hun,” Bitty clears his throat. “Any particular reason why you keep borrowing my futon though?”

Adam continues to pack his shit up.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he can hear the concern brimming in Bitty’s voice. “But I’m here for you ok? I got you back.”

“Ever been in love with someone you can’t have?”

Bitty quirks a brow as if to say, ‘do you realize who you’re talking to right now?’.

“Yeah, well,” Holster huffs. “That’s pretty much it.”

“Oh honey,” Eric’s tone is rueful and sympathetic. “You’ll figure it out.”

Figure it out, he says. He doesn’t promise Adam a happy ending because he knows that’s impossible.

“Hopefully,” Holster relents.

Holster comes back to find March and Ransom tangled up on the bottom bunk, eyes closed. He changes out his books and grabs a new shirt to change in the bathroom. He leaves before they can stop pretending to be asleep. Justin’s never gonna see what’s really going on; and if he does, he’ll never accept Adam. He’s said it himself a million times. _She’s the perfect soulmate_. Since day one, Ransom’s soulmate had to be a she.

If he finds himself on someone’s couch tonight for Netflix and Chill, and he spends more time laughing too hard over _Arrested Development_ than romancing his hookup, they don’t protest much.

_/.\\_

“I don’t know what to do,” Ransom confesses to Shitty. It’s January, and he’s finally over March. _Finally_.

It wasn’t easy, and he can only vaguely remember Winter Screw and the girl Holster set him up with.

“About what, brah?”

“My soulmate,” Ransom elaborates. “She clearly goes here. She’s clearly a music major. I thought it was March.”

“Not to be the bearer of obvious facts, brah.” Shitty’s is awkward, and totally unrepetent, “but what makes you think your soulmate’s a she?”

Ransom stares at him for a really long time, “I’m straight, Shits.”

“Not trying to invalidate your sexuality—”

“Well I am,” Lardo cuts him off as they enter Shitty’s room. “What are we invalidating?”

“Ransom’s convinced his soulmate’s a chick in music,” Shitty points to him accusingly.

Lardo stares at Ransom for a moment, assessing him closely. “Why are you sure?”

“Because she…they,” he amends for the sake of another argument with these two. “Are super into pop and party music and musical theatre.”

“Like Holster,” Lardo challenges.

“No, I mean yea he likes that stuff I guess,” Ransom gets this twist in his chest. “But it’s not the same, my soulmate knows me. They know everything I like and when I can’t deal with music. They understand me.”

“Like Holster,” Lardo reiterates.

“Stop…saying that,” he feels his stomach hollow out.

“I hate to disagree but Lards is right,” Shitty chimes in. “You sure it ain’t him brah?”

“I’m positive,” Ransom insists vehemently. “Holster’s straight, and I’m straight. And even if we were platonic soulmates, I’d want something more.”

“Wow there is so much I want to call bullshit on in that statement,” Lardo scowls. “You know platonic soulmates is a term created by straight white men to invalidate soulmates, right? It’s been used for centuries to break up families of queer people of color on the grounds that they’re not ‘real soulmates’.”

“It’s true,” Shitty nods stoically.

“But let’s pretend for two seconds that it’s just someone Holster and March happen to be in classes with,” Lardo redirects. “Do you think it’s possible that if they knew you were hoping for a girl that would discourage them from wanting to approach you?”

Ransom opens his mouth, and closes it. He does so a few times as he processes what Lardo’s said. “You’re right. You’re totally right.”

Maybe he won’t find them right away, but he sees what they’re saying. He should stop trying to force the inevitable. Justin…honestly has never considered being anything other than straight. But now, he has something mull over.

_/.\\_

It’s March, the season is getting intense. New music comes his way. Not just pop, but brand spanking new “I can’t even find it anywhere on the web” music. His soulmate is making lyrics faster than he can write them down. He’s frightened at first, because who knew that was a thing? A lot of people, obviously. He reprimands himself. How else would there be such a prolific music industry in the US if everyone wasn’t so obsessed with finding their soulmates?

_I wish you would look up. I wish you fall into me. I wish there some way. To make you see, make you believe._

_I wish I could pick up. Where my heart left off. I wish I could stumble into your love._

_Stumble, stumble into you_

_I just fumble, my whole life through_

_Hoping, waiting, pining, fading_

_Always mistaking_

_this affection_

_For something_

_worth the mention_

_For a change_

_For a chance_

_For a risk_

_For a gain_

_For you_

_I just wish_

_It could be you_

They sing and they sing. They sing about hope and being queer. They sing about their frustrations. They sing about their sadness. They sing until Justin thinks they turn blue. He doesn’t sing back. Because he can’t, he’s not ready. He doesn’t know what to say.

_/.\\_

It’s May. They’re twenty minutes from Holster’s house when Justin switches from their road trip playlist to the radio.

“Fancy” is playing, the thought of it still stings Ransom more than he’d like to admit. Before he can ask to change it, Adam’s changing it for him.

“Thanks,” Ransom mutters.

Adam balks momentarily. “For what?”

“For changing the song?” Maybe Justin’s tone comes off too condescending, but Adam doesn’t seem to notice.

Holster doesn’t seem to notice at all. He seemingly shuts down, keeping his focus completely on the road.

“Oh, no problem,” he says finally. Holster’s voice grates with tension, “it’s a shitty song anyway.”

“I thought you liked shit like that,” Ransom counters, mostly to keep the conversation alive.

“I like a lot of shit,” Adam argues defensively. “Anyway, Iggy Azalea is a racist piece of shit. Why would I give her any sort of compensation? I never listen to any of her shit if I can help it.”

Ransom swallows thickly. Holster does keep up with pop. Ransom’s never heard him sing that song. He’s had a lot of time to think about the idea that he’s not totally straight. Which he concedes is true. He spent most of the semester reading up on bisexuality and pansexuality like it was his business. He even took a sexuality class so he could engage in a dialogue about sexuality and how it can be fluid. Because maybe he is something, but the environment for him to explore that was never as obvious and present as it was at Samwell.

He doesn’t know if he wants to take a chance on maybe. He doesn’t think he can fuck up the best relationship in his life on a what if. But he thinks, baby steps.

“Hey Holtzy?”

“Yea, bro?”

“I’m bi,” he swallows thickly.

“Oh,” Adam’s eerily quiet for a moment. Then he adds, “‘swawesome, man.”

The response is somewhat underwhelming. Justin doesn’t know what he was expecting. But it was more than just…’swawesome. He can’t ignore the way his stomach curls when he thinks about Holster’s dumb smile and his dumb face. He chastises himself for catching feelings. But, how couldn’t he? Adam’s his boy. They’re there for each other through thick and thin. Holster gets him. He’s there to be supportive and honest. He can trust Holster with anything. Maybe even his heart.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized I put the scene about Johnson graduating in May of 2015 (ridiculous, I know). So I moved it back to 2014. That's the only thing that's changed!


	2. I don't wanna spend time fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam feels like he’s cycled through every attempt to get through to him. Except of course to just come out and say, ‘are you my soulmate?’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me way too long to post, so thank you for your patience

“Today I don’t feel like doing anything. I just wanna lay in my bed.”

_We’re all alone watching shadows on the ceiling._

“If I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

_Lately I’ve been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be._

It’s July and Ransom hasn’t spoken to Holster in a month, maybe longer. It’s baffling and disheartening that he feels like he barely knows his best friend anymore. But after Adam’s lackluster response to him coming out, Justin isn’t sure what they’re doing.  Justin is 21. He has no significant other, and another month before he should deal with his crumbling friendship. But his soulmate miraculously hasn’t given up on him yet.

“Life is all good when you’re around,” Justin murmurs. He’s staring at his ceiling, tracing every groove with his eyes. There are million other things he could do right now. But he’s trying to be better at listening.

“I want you ‘til the world ends. You’re way more than worth it. But I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

_As long as I am with you, my heart continues to beat._

Ransom listens to them sing this and that for a while. He knows that it isn’t impossible that Holster could be his soulmate. Adam never sings around him unless there’s a chorus of people joining in. Justin had never stopped to consider this for long. His soulmate loved music. But they never sang theme songs. They must not watch TV as much as Holster.

And maybe he was just going in circles again. It felt like that’s all he ever does lately. He’s so desperate to piece things together, to fix them somehow. But he can’t control what he doesn’t understand. He’s taking each day one step at a time; hopping that they’ll come to him when they’re ready.

“If you want it, take it,” he sings. “I should’ve said it before.”

_/.\\_

_We used to be. Just like twins, so in sync. The same energy._

“Now’s a dead battery,” Ransom grunts.

He’s trudging back to the Haus after a long day at the career fair. It’s October, and he could honestly care less about being a doctor at this point. He wants to talk to Holster about it. He’d rather talk to his soulmate, or his parents, or just anyone. But he doesn’t have them. All he has is this vague inkling that if he leaves Massachusetts any time soon, he’ll lose his soulmate.

If only it were as simple as waiting around for something to give. If only he could wake up one day and just know who his soulmate was. Instead of hoping for someone who will never love him, and barely likes him as it is.

 “Where are you now that I need ya? Couldn’t find you anywhere.” Ransom changes the song.

_You’re losing your words. We’re speaking in bodies. Avoiding me and talking about you. But you’re losing your turn. I guess I’ll never learn. Cause I stay another hour or two._

Justin laughs mirthlessly. It’s like they know everything about him, and yet nothing at all.

_/.\\_

It’s October and Holster’s done all he can to avoid Ransom off the ice. Because it’s been three years, and Adam doesn’t know how much more he can take. He’s tried fighting for them. He’s tried to let Justin have his own life, and be happy without him. Adam feels like he’s cycled through every attempt to get through to him. Except of course to just come out and say, ‘are you my soulmate?’.

_Where are you now that I need ya?_

“I didn’t know just what to say to you. And I didn’t know who to blame.”

He slumps against his seat in the music library. He can’t even study with Ransom anymore. Every time they try to initiate stilted conversation, Justin’s signing under his breath. He never did that when he was with March. Everything hurt differently when Justin was with her. At least he was happy. Now it’s a miracle if they could get through a conversation without Ransom’s anxiety going haywire or with Holster leaving abruptly. Because he can’t pretend they’re anything like what they used to be. He can’t get through a conversation without wanting to throw up or cry or both.

_Do you eat, sleep, do you breathe me anymore?_

“I saw you as you walked across my room.” Holster admits.

_Lost for you I’m so lost for you_

“You say you want the truth. But you can’t take it. So, I give you lies.” He tries to thumb through his advanced theory notes.                                                                                  

_Tell me what you want what you like it’s ok. I’m a little curious too._

He sighs, rubbing his temple. “It’s not getting any better. But what can I do?”

_Don’t be scared cause I’m your body type._

“We argue all day, make love all night.” Because they argue almost constantly. He’s desperately reaching out, but theirs is a dance of ambivalence and miscommunication.

_What do you mean?_

“You’re running out of time,” he admits.  

_What do you mean?_

“Better make up your mind.”

_What do you mean?_

Holster sighs, because clearly, he doesn’t know this song. “You’re so indecisive of what I’m saying. Tryna catch the beat, make up your heart.”

Writing his own music didn’t work. So, Adam’s back to square one, scrambling for music that’s literal enough to get everything he wants to say out of his head and into Justin’s heart. He’s too frustrated, tired, and overwhelmed to try anything different. Maybe Justin isn’t his soulmate. Maybe it’s time to move on—somehow.

_/.\\_

“I’m thinking about going into consulting,” Ransom says quietly at team breakfast one day in November.

They’re in line for pancakes and Holster’s barely uttered more than five words to him all week. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care when Ransom’s just given him a two-ton, earth shattering piece of news.

“What?” Holster hisses. “Why?”

Ransom shrugs, “I can’t go into med school right away. Don’t feel like going home either.”

“Why not?” Adam demands a little too loudly.

“Because most programs don’t take students right out of college,” Justin snaps. “What’s your problem, bro?”

Adam shakes his head, “nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Ransom declares as he grabs silverware.

“Whatever, Justin.” Holster walks toward the team table without waiting for him. He sits at the farthest end of the table, grumbling as he peels a hardboiled egg.

Ransom, unfortunately, sits down next to him. “We’re talking about this.”

Holster freezes. “About what?”

“You’re ghosting me. I’m your co-captain. I’m supposed to be your best friend, bro. And now you’re angry because I want to talk about my future with you?”

“Ok first, not angry, bro.” Holster holds up a finger to shush him. “Second, even if I was it’s not about you talking to me.”

“Then what is it?”

Holster sputters. Isn’t it obvious? “What’s the point of selling yourself out to soulless post-grad grunt work? You’re better than that.”

“How would you know?” Ransom all but shouts. “You haven’t said more than ten words to me in six months. I thought you’d be happy for me. Not giving me shit because—”

 “You don’t want me to move but you tell me to go,” Adam supplies. Not realizing that he’s quoted the same Justin Bieber song he’s been singing to his soulmate for months.

Justin leans back in his seat, staring at Adam long and hard. “What?”

“I gotta go,” He hoists his backpack over his shoulder, almost running out of the dining hall.

_/.\\_

Ransom sits there gaping for a while. He and Holster had barely been around each other all semester. He and his soulmate had sung nothing but Bieber’s new album all month. His soulmate is in love with him. _Adam_ is in love with him. He doesn’t have to choose between his bro and the love of his life. Then again, maybe he does. He’d spent so long shoving both Holster and his soulmate into a corner of his life that maybe it couldn’t be what he always imagined.

Bitty looks up from his French textbook. “What was that about?”

“I think I have to go after him,” Ransom says automatically.

Lardo snorts, taking her head off Bitty’s shoulder. “Try the music library.”

Ransom nods, packing up their barely eaten breakfasts before heading out.

Ransom checks the music library, and it’s empty save for the librarian. But he knows Holster better than that; he has to around there somewhere.

“You gotta go and get angry at all of my honesty,” Ransom sings quietly. “You know I try, but I don’t do too well with apologies.”

No answer. He knows Holster’s somewhere in this building. He tries the practice rooms in the basement. He smiles, despite the situation, when he remembers their Frog year. Holster used to talk about his soulmate all the time. He was a music major because of his soulmate.

He walks quietly through a hallway, trying again. “I hope I don't run out of time, could someone call a referee? Cause I just need one more shot at forgiveness.”

 _I know you know that I made those mistakes maybe once or twice_.

Ransom’s ears perk up. There’s a soft echo from one of the rooms toward the back.

_By once or twice I mean maybe a couple a hundred times_

“So let me, oh let me redeem, oh redeem, oh myself tonight. Cause I just need one more shot at second chances.”

Ransom opens the door open. Holster lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

“Is it too late now to say sorry?” Adam whispers.

Justin approaches slowly, sitting down next to him. “I’ll take every single piece of the blame if you want me to.”

“You know there’s no innocent one in this game for two.” Holster’s left hand reaches out for him.

Ransom holds it in his lap, staring at it and wondering how many late-night symphonies were composed with it just to get him to sleep. This was it. Here was his soulmate. Everything he’d waited for his entire life. Adam Birkholtz was loud, brash, and could have terrible taste in music when he wanted. But he was persistent, caring, and empathetic. He’s always there when Ransom needs him. Even if it wasn’t noticeable. It still hurt that they’d spent so much time avoiding each other.

“Bro, babe,” Justin pleads. “Look at me, please.”

Holster’s eyes meet his; their drowning in their own confusion.

“Did you know?” Ransom murmurs.

Holster shrugs, “I hoped.”

“I’m sorry,” he says because he wonders how happier they’d be if he’d just figured out his shit earlier.

“I’m sorrier,” Holster volleys. It makes him wonder how many times he thought to do more but just couldn’t.

Ransom snorts, realizing how dumb and totally gone for each other they’ve been. “We’ll work it out ok?”

Holster sits up slowly, leaning in so close that their foreheads touch. “I love you.”

Justin wishes he could be more surprised or something that demands the enormity of this moment. But the thing is, they’ve done this all before. They’ve been loving each other for as long as Ransom can remember.

“I know. I love you too.”

_/.\\_

“Honey came in and she caught me read handed creeping with the girl next door,” Holster sings as he squirts shampoo into his hands. “Picture this we were both butt naked banging on the bathroom floor.”

“I hope not,” Ransom warns playfully as he shuts the bathroom door.

It’s February, and they’ve gotten into a rhythm of things. There were a few arguments and long nights when they first got together. But they have three months left of college, and are finally able to enjoy it the way the universe intended it.

Holster pops his head out of the shower. “I thought you were sleeping in.”

“Like I could with your shower sex playlist on a loop,” Ransom chirps as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“I don’t have—a formal shower sex playlist,” Holster attempts to protest.

“Uh huh,” Justin says unconvincingly. “C’mon scoot over. You can massage my scalp.”

“Only if you sing with me,” Holster teases.

“Why,” Justin moans halfheartedly, resting his forehead tiredly on Adam’s shoulder.

“Trying to make up for lost time.” He tries to keep his tone light and jovial.

As if he isn’t afraid to wake up one morning and find Ransom gone. As if he isn’t worried about screwing them up more royally than he already has. It took him three years to get the balls to confront Justin. But he’s so totally gone for this man. All he can do is learn to ask for help when he needs it, and hope Justin trusts him enough to do the same.

Ransom looks up, catching Holster in a long and hard kiss. “You’ve got time, all of it.”  

_/.\\_

“If this song doesn’t put WizKid on the Billboard Top 40, I don’t know what will,” Holster shouts over the music.

It’s their last kegster. They have finals in two weeks. They’re halfway out the door into adulthood.

“I doubt anyone here knows his name,” Ransom argues as he slips an arm around Holster’s waist.

“Well that’s something to add to the list,” Adam declares vaguely.

“What list?”

“Things to do after I get promoted,” he smirks.

“Promo—” Justin stares at him dumbfoundedly. “You got the job?”

“You’re looking at an official runner for Warner Music,” he announces with pride. “The hours are as shit as the pay. But it’s a start.”

“We’re really moving to New York?”

“Yeah, that’s a good thing, right?”

 Ransom grins, “baby, I love your style.”

Holster laughs, “This is so gonna be our song. That’s why I need a once dance.”

“Got the Hennessey in my hand,” Justin supplies.

“One more ‘fore I go,” they harmonize, grinding to the beat of the music.

Whatever the future held, they’d take it on, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can listen to the [ fic playlist here](https://open.spotify.com/user/palateens/playlist/4ieignOTuXZ476X0V3QFbM)
> 
> Thanks again for your patience.   
>  next fic will have to be multi-chapter but I'm really excited for it


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